


Tales from the Execution Room

by MinminAmbus



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Decepticon Minimus AU, I do not know how to tag things so, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:27:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26372686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinminAmbus/pseuds/MinminAmbus
Summary: Sometimes Decepticon lives — and the endings of said lives — aren’t always on the battlefield. In Lord Megatron’s execution room, each and every death is controlled by him. No outside factors, like sudden attacks, Autobot peace talks, or the intervention of organic races. It was just his raw judgement. …Well. His judgement, and Minimus Ambus’.
Relationships: Megatron/Minimus Ambus
Comments: 7
Kudos: 24





	Tales from the Execution Room

Minimus sat atop his shoulders. Irreducible Minimus. It was a seat fit for a king, which some might find laughable, as the mech Minimus was seated on was the tyrant of all tyrants. Megatron. Who also happened to be sitting on a throne.

They both quietly sat on their respective thrones, with Megatron tapping his digits over the edge of one of the arm rests. The room they were in was silent. Rightfully so. It was the sentencing chamber. Any words uttered here could and would be held against the mech who said them. Overall, the room was foreboding. It wasn’t entirely well-lit. The walls were high, with thin windows filtering in light tinted purple. A symbol of where the hell you were and what you should prioritize. The mecha found guilty sat —well, more like  _ kneeled  _ — at the lowest point in the room, with Megatron and Minimus looking down on them from the throne that rested atop a few rows of steps.

A Decepticon who had been found guilty of providing his Autobot lover with medical supplies lay kneeling, energon leaking from multiple wounds on his frail body. He didn’t meet the gaze of any of the mechs in the room. Not the guards. And definitely not Lord Megatron’s.

Both ruling mechs gazed long and hard at the mech by their feet. Megatron silently suggested execution. Minimus could tell what his verdict was just by a single movement of his large black servos, curling into tight fists. They loosened when he felt Minimus shift on his shoulders. It was a little movement, that might barely count for anything, but Megatron could tell Minimus disagreed. Neither of their expressions changed, nor did they move their helms to look at each other. They intimately knew the movements and silent expressions of each other. But that couldn’t convey everything though.

Minimus sent a comm,  **::Killing him would only enrage the Autobot. Whatever love they have can be used to push them both closer to the Decepticon cause.::**

Megatron let out a considering hum, so quiet that Minimus could only  _ feel  _ it rumbling through this frame. 

“I will let you live, on one condition.” Megatron’s voice filled the room rather nicely, sending a shiver down the mecha in the room with its rumbling bass. “Convince your Autobot lover to join my cause. If you cannot do so in the next three solar cycles, then you will be hunted down by my justice division and killed.”

The kneeling Decepticon looked like he would burst into tears. He thanked Lord Megatron in desperate mumbles.  _ Thank you for sparing me. I’ll do this. I will. I will. I promise on my very spark. I do. I do. I do.  _ Pathetic.

There weren't always times where Minimus and Megatron agreed on sentences though. Some things Minimus found to be obvious, but Megatron would decide to choose otherwise. Alas, Megatron had the final say. He was open to listen to so few voices, but in the end, his words were above everything else. Minimus knew this, and as he always did, he paid attention to the rules and structures in front of him.

Occasionally, neither of them have to think in order to determine a verdict. Sometimes the answer was so obviously clear, especially in a case like this; A prisoner — this time, a blatant traitor to what it meant to be a Decepticon — spewed lies from his dirty mouth. He wasn’t a Decepticon. He was a Framist bastard who happened to be lucky enough to bear the Decepticon insignia. His luck just ran out. Megatron’s usually neutral frown turned into a scowl that would send any rational mech running. His EM field whipped out lines of anger but that damned mech kept talking. Minimus glared from the warlord’s shoulder, folding his servos in his lap. He held them together so hard that he could nearly feel the metal start to warp.

In a sudden move, Megatron stood from his chair. The action nearly threw Minimus from his shoulder, but the minibot didn’t let that show on his faceplates besides a widening of his optics. He held onto Megatron with one servo. The other mech’s engine rumbled with a grim ferocity, his dentae gritted as he moved. He held up his right arm right at the treacherous mech, his fusion cannon humming lowly. He blasted that damned mech right through the spark, burning up his insignia along with his life force. Megatron shot him once again, just to get out his last bit of anger. 

The mech was dead. As he should be. Megatron sat back down in his throne, his EM field still throwing hostility around the room.

He gave a harsh order to his guards, “Clean that up, and bring in the next traitor.”

Minimus stayed on his shoulder, pushing bits of assurance into his own EM field. It wasn’t anything overwhelmingly loving or kind, but for their strange, brutal dynamic, it was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a little short, probably because it’s based on a joke a friend made when I told them about Decepticon!Minimus. “He orders executions while sitting on Megan’s shoulder.” It’s canon now.


End file.
